“What does he look like? You described him once to me, but I’ve forgotten.”
Allie resolutely refused to tell him and once more entreated Neale to let well enough alone, to keep her hidden from the mob, and not to seek Durade.
“He has a bad gang,” she added. “They might kill you. And do you—you think I’d—ever be—able to live longer without you?”
Whereupon Neale forgot all about Durade and vengeance, and everything but the nearness and sweetness of this girl.
“When shall we get married?” he asked, presently.
This simple question caused Allie to avert her face, and just at that moment there came a knock on the door. Allie made a startled movement.
“Come in,” called Neale.
It was his chief who entered. General Lodge’s face wore the smile that softened it. Then it showed surprise.
“Neale, you’re transfigured!”
Neale’s laugh rang out. “Behold cause—even for that,” he replied, indicating the blushing Allie.